


Painting by the Numbers

by ultravioletlife77



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Babysitting, M/M, Muggle Culture, Muggle London, Mutual Pining, POV Draco Malfoy, Post-Hogwarts, Raising Teddy Lupin, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28822143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultravioletlife77/pseuds/ultravioletlife77
Summary: When Draco happens to show up at his Aunt’s house while Harry is babysitting, it somehow turns into a routine of weekly co-babysitting their favorite cousin/Godchild. Harry introduces Draco to a world of things like Muggle street food, finger painting, hip hop, and video games, and none of it does a thing to help him get over Harry in the slightest.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Painting by the Numbers

Draco cast a tempus as he stepped out into the street, narrowly dodging two young boys running through the door behind him. He’d expected to be at work past seven, and so had to turn down his Aunt when she had asked him to babysit. But it was just before five, which was just enough to time to get there if she hadn't found anyone else.

  
A few moments later, he was standing in front of the stone path leading up to the Tonk's quaint house. Mother had invited Andromeda and Teddy to live with her in the Manor, but his Aunt had politely declined in favor of staying in her small, one-story home on a popular wizarding street. A few years ago, Draco would have thought her mad. The manor was incredible, beautiful, and full of anything you could ever need.

  
Now, Draco found he much preferred the cozy home to the cold, sharp edges of the Manor he'd grown up in. Even without the dreadful memories, it had never been a home. It was a _manor_. He had tried talking his mother into selling the place, but she had refused so far. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he swore he could see her resolve crumbling day by day.

  
For a few moments after knocking, there was no answer. If someone else was babysitting, they might have taken Teddy to their house. He decided to wait another minute before leaving.

  
Just as he was considering leaving, the door was suddenly wrenched open to the Savior of the Wizarding World with a singing boy hanging on his shoulders. There was a beat where no one spoke.

  
“Malfoy,” Potter said after a moment of shocked silence, clearly confused.

  
“Potter,” Draco returned with a short nod.

  
It had been years since Draco had last seen Harry Potter. Well, years since he had spoken to him for more than five minutes.

  
Of course, he'd _seen_ Potter over the years – at weddings, and parties, and simply walking the streets of wizarding London. They would share a polite nod or exchange of last names as a greeting. If they wound up at the same event, they would usually end up having a short conversation. But he had not spoken to Potter, not really, in three years.

  
Draco cleared his throat. “My Aunt had asked me to babysit. When work let out early, I thought I would stop by in case she hadn't found anyone.” Teddy dropped from Potter's shoulders and ran up to Draco, who gladly picked him up.

“Uncle Draco!”

  
“Teddy! How are you?” Teddy started a long rant about what he and Potter had been doing so far that day, which apparently included dancing, hide and go seek, and pretending to be dinosaurs – not that Draco knew what that meant. But Draco nodded and smiled enthusiastically.

  
“Wow! That sounds amazing, Teddy. Well, it looks like Potter's here to hang out with you for tonight, so-”

  
“Noooo, Uncle Draco!” Teddy whined. He tugged on Draco's robes as he pouted. He slowly transformed until a miniature Draco was staring up at him. Draco sighed. Teddy knew nothing won him over like turning into Draco's spitting image.

“But you and Potter are having so much fun! I wouldn't want to get in your way.”

  
“Come on, Malfoy,” Potter said before Teddy could whine again. “I think there's room enough for all of us.”

...

The living room was a clutter of toys and books, and for some reason the couch pillows on the floor. Draco raised an eyebrow at Potter. “You really are having fun.” Potter gave a ghost of the trademark grin Draco hadn't seen in so long.

  
“Oh, don't worry. We'll clean it all up. _Right_ , Teddy?”

  
“Right! Right! Right!” Teddy was jumping up and down beside them, yelling. Harry knelt down to be at eye-level.

  
“What's got you riled up all of a sudden?”

  
“Uncle Draco and Uncle Harry are here!” Potter laughed.

  
“Ah, well that is cause for excitement.” He stood back up and turned to Draco.

  
“Malfoy-”

“Why are you calling him that?” They both looked down at Teddy's pout.

  
“Wh- oh, Malfoy?” Teddy nodded, making a face.

  
“His name is Draco.”

  
“Did you know that we went to school together when we were kids?” Teddy's jaw fell open.

  
“Nu-uh.”

  
“Yes-huh,” Draco responded. He ignored Potter snorting in amusement. “We did. At school, some of us liked to call each other by our last name. Like if I called you _Lupin_.” Teddy giggled when Draco poked him in the chest as he said his name.

  
“That's silly. You should call him his real name.” 

  
“You know, you’re right. How are you so smart?” Harry asked, shaking his head at the kid at his side. Teddy grinned proudly. He turned back to Draco. “Anyway, _Draco_. I was just about to get dinner ready if you two want to hang out.”

  
“Sure.”

  
“Have you eaten?” Draco shook his head. “All right, I'll make you some, too.”

...

When Harry called them to the kitchen half an hour later, Draco was surprised to see an actual meal laid out. He had no idea why, but he had assumed Harry couldn't cook and would make a frozen dinner or something in the microwave.

  
“Lasagna!” Teddy cried happily as they sat down to dinner. Draco sat down to a plate of lasagna that looked just as good as what they might serve at Hogwarts, or the manor growing up.

  
Teddy bobbed his head to imaginary music as he plowed into his meal. It was clear that pasta, Draco, and Harry all at once made this the best night ever. Teddy kept the conversation going as they ate, asking unprompted questions and telling funny stories. He made a comment about a dinosaur, and Draco made a note to ask Harry about that before he left.

  
When Teddy's plate was almost empty, he pushed it away and sat back in his chair. Everything was gone but a few bites. Harry raised one eyebrow and looked away from Teddy haughtily.

  
“Huh. I guess _someone_ doesn't want to be a Quidditch player when they grow up.” Draco smirked as he watched Teddy glare at Harry, but still scoop up every bite and eat it. Harry smiled and ruffled Teddy's hair when he was done.

  
“Can I have a biscuit?” Draco was impressed when Harry only laughed at Teddy’s impressive puppy-dog eyes.

  
“You barely finished your dinner!”

  
“But I _did_ finish dinner!” Harry studied him intently for a moment.

  
“All right. You can have one biscuit.” Teddy started to cheer, but Harry continued. “After you clean up the living room.” Teddy bolted out of the door as soon as Harry had finished his sentence.

  
Draco started taking care of the dishes without a word.

  
“Thank you, Harry. That was actually really good.” When Harry didn't answer, Draco looked up to find Harry smirking at him. “What?”

  
“You don't have to sound so surprised.” Draco flushed ever so slightly.

  
“Sorry. I don't know why I assumed you wouldn't be a good cook. I know we're adults now, but-” Harry scoffed.

  
“Please. I've had to cook since I was practically Teddy's age.” When Draco looked closer at him, he noticed Harry's smirk flicker. He didn't think Harry had meant to say that. Harry jumped to his feet and started cleaning up the kitchen, pointedly not facing Draco. “And I didn't think Draco Malfoy would be a good babysitter, but here we are.”

  
Draco smiled. “ _I_ didn't think I would be a good babysitter. Before Teddy.”

  
“He does bring out the best in everyone, doesn’t he?”

  
Before Draco could respond, Teddy had reappeared in the kitchen and was grabbing Harry’s hand to drag him to the ‘clean’ living room.

...

Teddy was happily munching a peanut butter biscuit when they heard the unmistakable sound of someone entering the wards. Draco stepped into the living room to greet his Aunt as she appeared in the doorway.

  
“Draco, I thought you had plans tonight!”

  
“My shift ended early. I wanted to check if you had found a babysitter.” He hugged his Aunt when she outstretched her arms.

“Oh, so you sent Harry home?”

  
“Nope. I'm still here,” Harry answered before Draco could, popping into the living room. He saw the confusion flash across his Aunt's face before she smiled gratefully at both of them.

  
“You boys are so kind to me.” She patted them both on their backs.

  
“How was your book club?” Draco asked. Andromeda smiled widely.

  
“Oh, just wonderful. We’re reading Agatha Brown’s latest novel.” Draco forced himself to reign in a smirk. Agatha Brown wrote what Draco – and many others – considered trashy romance books. “Everything went well, I take it?”

  
Harry nodded. “Teddy was perfect, as always.”

  
“And I know that's a lie, as always.” Harry grinned.

“We had a very fun night. Everything's been taken care of. Leftovers from dinner are in the fridge.” Andromeda sighed.

  
“Harry, dear. You don't have to make me extra food every time you come over. You insult an old woman's cooking.”

  
“Never! I want to give a _young_ woman more time to enjoy life.”

  
“You boys should be the ones enjoying life. Go on and head home, my dears. Thank you for everything.” She gave a kiss on the cheek to Harry and Draco before leading them out of the house.

  
They were silent as they walked to the end of the path, where Harry turned to face him. “It was... good to see you, Draco. It seems like you're doing well.” Draco nodded.

  
“The same to you.” Harry cleared his throat.

  
“Well. I'll see you around, I guess.”

“See you around.”

After Harry disappeared, Draco stood rooted to the spot far longer than he would ever admit.

….

When Draco entered 12 Grimmauld place, he didn't even pay attention as Kreacher took his robes and greeted him. He collapsed on the couch and asked Kreacher for a cup of tea.

  
He'd just spent the evening with Harry Potter after barely speaking to him in years. Draco took a deep breath.

  
He'd kept tabs on Harry, of course. He read the Prophet articles about him and overheard gossip, but assumed little of it was true. The only source of information he mostly trusted was George, but he enjoyed messing with Draco far too much to fully trust him.

  
Harry had surprised just about everyone after finishing Hogwarts by not becoming an Auror, or Professor, or pro Quidditch player. Instead, he'd started a private business that monitored the Ministry of Magic for dark magic, inappropriate behavior, or anything disreputable. It was something no one had seen coming, but Draco knew it made sense as soon as he heard it. Harry didn't want to run around catching more bad guys, he wanted to make sure the bad guys weren't in power like they had been during the war. Draco knew as well as anyone that if the Death Eaters – and those who abused their power, like Umbridge – hadn't been in control just before and during the war, everything would have been different.

  
The Ministry could have done a lot more to help the Order – and everyone – as soon as Harry told them Voldemort was back, if only the Minister of Magic had listened. Umbridge wouldn't have been able to take over Hogwarts and prevent the students from knowing the truth. The Death Eaters wouldn't have been able to avoid Azkaban the first time around, after Voldemort's first defeat, just by paying off the Ministry. Harry wouldn't have had a warrant for his arrest out, which obviously had impeded his efforts to save the world.

  
And so, Harry and his team had free reign to monitor the owls in and out of the Ministry, the offices, and the employees of the Ministry themselves. Draco had been surprised they had let it happen, but what were they going to do? Tell the Savior of the World that they didn't feel comfortable with him making sure they weren't doing anything wrong? How would that have made them look? Goodness only knows what the Prophet would have come up with. No one would be able to trust the Ministry again.

  
It probably didn't hurt that Kingsley Shacklebolt had taken over as permanent Minister of Magic. Draco had learned that he had been working with the Order throughout the war. Undoubtedly that meant he had even worked with Harry.

  
Draco took the tea from Kreacher with a 'thank you' and settled back into the couch. Without really seeing Harry for years, Draco had managed to almost entirely eradicate his... _feelings_ for Harry.

  
It hadn't been long after returning to Hogwarts that Draco admitted to himself that part of his obsession with Harry – at least for the last few years – was attraction. He'd always found Harry attractive, as long as he'd known he was gay. You couldn't really deny how handsome the man was. It wasn't _just_ because he'd saved the world that millions of young girls dreamed about being his wife.

  
And when Harry risked his life to pull Draco from a raging fire, testified for him at his trials, forgave him easily, and saved the entire world from what Draco had resigned to be inevitable, what was Draco supposed to do? _Not_ fall in love with him?

  
It was a nice fantasy, one he allowed himself to indulge in during their return year to Hogwarts. There was no real harm in studying Harry in the library and Great Hall, listening to and watching him with his friends in the Common Room, or daydreaming about being with him.

  
He was fully aware it was nothing more than a fantasy. There was a long list of reasons Harry would never return the feelings. When he thought about it, he decided that it wasn’t the fact that Harry was clearly straight or that Draco had been a Death Eater that was the reason he knew Harry would never be with him; it was the simple fact that Draco had been an awful, prejudiced asshole in school.

  
Although Draco had come a long way in accepting himself and recognizing that he wasn’t an entirely terrible person, he wasn't fool enough to believe for one second that Harry Potter would ever be interested in him.

  
His feelings had lingered after graduating, but had lessened over time when he stopped interacting with or seeing him on a regular basis. But he couldn't lie to himself and pretend they were ever gone. Even now, five years after graduating, he still felt his heart flip or his breath catch when he noticed Harry in public or saw a picture of him in the Prophet. At least he barely thought about it anymore when Harry wasn’t in his day to day life.

  
Draco set the tea down. He'd finished the cup without even noticing he was drinking it. Now that he'd spent a few hours with Harry – eating dinner with him, talking to him, seeing that damn grin – he could sense his feelings coming back full-force.

….

Draco looked up from his potion at the tapping on his window. “Damn it,” he whispered. He was in the middle of an important step. If he stepped away from the cauldron, even just to let the owl in, it could mess it up.

  
He held up a finger to the owl, as if the creature could understand the gesture. It almost seemed like she did; she stopped tapping and sat patiently on the windowsill.

  
As soon as Draco had finished stirring and the potion needed to sit for five minutes, he unlatched the door. His Aunt's owl entered. He took the parchment from her beak and pet her softly. It was definitely his Aunt's owl, but the writing was neither his Aunt's neat cursive nor Teddy's attempt at letters. It was plain, small writing that Draco thought was familiar, but couldn't quite place.

_Draco,_

_(Teddy dictated this letter to me)._

_Uncle Draco, can you come again this Tuesday when Grandma is away and Uncle Harry is here? It was soooo much fun with you and Uncle Harry. I can show you my new book and we can pretend to be dinosaurs. You missed that part last time._

_Love, Teddy_

_P.S. If you can't, that's fine. I'll let him down gently._

_Harry_

Underneath the letter there were drawings of two creatures. One Teddy had clearly drawn, which was short with strange plates coming up from its spine. The other must have been drawn by Harry. It was much taller with a long neck and a rounded head. Draco studied them for a while, eventually wondering if these were dinosaurs. He'd completely forgotten to ask Harry about those.

  
Draco took a deep breath. He didn't think seeing Harry like that again was a good idea. It wasn't smart to build his heart up that way just to not interact with Harry again for years.

  
He didn't want to upset Teddy, but the boy would have to understand. He saw Teddy at least once or twice a week already. Besides, it wasn't like the boy didn't have enough attention with just one of them there.

  
Draco quickly sent a note back saying he didn't think he'd be able to make it due to a work event. The call into work was a one-time thing, but there was no reason not to use it as an excuse again. Trying not to think any further about it, he turned back to his potion, cursing when he realized he'd taken more than five minutes.

…

Draco sighed as he turned the shower up a little hotter. It was the first time in ages he'd thought about Harry in the shower. It had happened constantly when he'd first moved in, knowing that Harry had lived in the apartment for two years before giving it to Draco. But here he was again, picturing Harry naked in his shower. The good thing – or was it terribly pathetic? - was that usually it wasn't even particularly sexual. Just Harry showering.

  
As he rinsed off, Draco thought back to the last time he'd had an actual conversation with Harry. Almost three years ago, Harry had owled him out of the blue. He'd said he had something important he wanted to discuss with Draco in person and asked him to meet him later that week at a café in Diagon Alley.

  
Draco couldn't help but pretend it would be for what he knew it wasn't, that Harry wanted to declare his undying love for Draco. He'd been nervous for several days wondering what Harry Potter could possibly want to discuss after barely speaking for two years since graduating. His mind had come up with a dozen possibilities, but all of them were completely unrealistic. The only ones he thought might be possible were that it was something about Teddy, that he actually wanted to reconcile their issues because it had been bothering his ridiculous Hero complex, or that he had some concern about George or the shop.

When he'd shown up at the café, Harry seemed somewhat nervous, too. But he'd wanted to meet for a reason Draco's wild imagination had never thought of – he hated his apartment. Draco hadn't even known Harry had inherited the old Black apartment from Sirius – hadn't even known _Sirius_ had inherited it. Draco had been there a few times as a child, but not for years before the war.

Harry hated it for a lot of reasons – despite trying to redecorate a little, the entire thing was old-fashioned and stuffy. The portrait of Mrs. Black chastised him and outright bellowed at Granger and some of his other friends. Kreacher made him feel uncomfortable with his overbearing nature and odd behavior, and Draco had a strong suspicion there was some larger, underlying reason Harry didn't like the House Elf. Both Andromeda and Sirius were burned off the family tapestry, and there were other indicators of them being considered traitors.

  
But he didn't want to sell it or give it to just anyone, since it was such an important house to a long-standing Wizard family. More importantly, it was something his Godfather had given him.

  
Draco still had no idea why Harry had brought him there to tell him all of that until Harry had stopped rambling and cleared his throat.

  
“So. Anyway. I was wondering. If you or your mother want it, I'd be happy to give it to you.” The entire time Harry was talking, it hadn't even really occurred to him that his mother was a Black. That he was a Black. He had stared at Harry in surprise until Harry flushed and started mumbling about him not having to take it.

  
“No. I'll... I'll talk to my mother. I'll owl you.”

His mother hadn't wanted it, but insisted Draco take it and preserve their family home. After debating and thinking and arguing with himself for days, he'd finally owled Harry and accepted it. He tried to refuse taking it without paying him, but Harry had insisted. “I didn't pay for it. Sirius didn't pay for it. His parents didn't pay for it. It was paid for ages ago by someone I couldn't even name. I don't want anything for it.”

  
Within a month, Draco was moved into Harry's old apartment. With all the paperwork and the process of moving in and out, he saw Harry regularly for two weeks. And then he was officially settled in, and he barely spoke to Harry again until today.

….

“You all right, Draco?” George asked when Draco walked into work the next day. He sat down across from George on the other side of his desk.

  
“Fine. Had trouble sleeping last night.” George made a vague hmm noise. “Anything new?” George handed him a sheet with their current inventory so Draco would know what Potions or other items needed made. They were mostly low on Portable Swamps and Puking Pastiles.

  
“Actually, I've been thinking.” Draco groaned. He hated when George had been thinking. George just grinned. “I've been thinking we should have a section of the store – just a small part of it – dedicated to the adult market.” Draco made a face.

  
“Please tell me you don't mean what I think you mean.” George laughed cheekily.

  
“Draco, you continue to surprise me. I had no idea you were so perverted!” Draco flushed and glared across the desk. “A fun idea, but no. I was thinking more of, like... a date night line? My first idea was a bit of a confidence potion. A little more than a Draught of Peace that only dulls the anxiety.” Draco nodded, intrigued. His mind was already racing to think of what ingredients would be needed to create that.

  
“I've certainly told you we need to break into new markets. This could be a good start.” George grinned again. He was always happier when he didn't need to pester and convince Draco for weeks. “A confidence potion would be a best-seller, if we were able to perfect it.”

  
“I thought we could come up with some other ideas along that line. You can help, Draco. What's stopping _you_ from dating? What potion do _you_ need?” Draco rolled his eyes. None of his friends stayed off his back about his perpetually single state. Apparently not even his business partner.

  
“I'm going to work.” Draco took the sheet and headed into his workshop.

  
It was just down the hall from George’s office, in the floor above the store itself. Sometimes Draco wished it was a little farther away from George, but they’d come up with a system that worked for them; if Draco left the door of his workshop closed, George wouldn’t bother him. If it was open, the Weasley felt free to come waltzing in just to annoy Draco, or let him in on a ridiculous pun he’d just come up with.

  
Draco threw his robes on the hook just inside the door and rolled his sleeves up.

  
A large cauldron sat in the middle of the room. The left wall was covered in shelves of the most common ingredients, while the rarer ones were stored in a cabinet in the corner. On the right was a workbench where he created the non-potion items.

  
As Draco started up the process of making Puking Pastilles, which was nearly second nature for him at this point, he considered his career choice.  
It occurred to him that, like Harry, he'd done something with his career that no one had considered. But it worked for him. Surprisingly, it had been George that approached him at Teddy's second birthday party at the Burrow.

  
Apparently, Harry had mentioned how talented Draco was at Potions – and intelligent in general – and George threw out the idea of Draco coming to work with him. Draco had not been able to get that out of his mind for weeks – Harry had not only been talking about him, but _positively_?

  
Draco had politely told George he wasn't sure it was the right fit for him – Draco Malfoy in a _joke shop_? - and George hadn't seemed surprised and told him to consider it.

  
But as his last year of school came to a close, Draco realized that he had no other idea of what he wanted to do. Sure, he was intelligent and had scored very well on his N.E.W.T.s. But he didn't want to work for the Ministry (perhaps he would have been more inclined had he known about Potter's plans to regulate it). He wasn't sure who would hire him, and he certainly didn't think anyone would trust him to make Potions for them. He couldn't imagine becoming a professor. He considered Healer, textbook writer, and a dozen other jobs, but none of them seemed right. As every job he thought of fell apart, Draco had turned back to George.

  
It was a surprising partnership, but one that worked well nonetheless. George handled the fun, quirky side – organizing the store, interacting with customers, and coming up with imaginative new ideas. Draco handled the practical side of actually making most of the products and creating the new ideas George came up with. He also reeled George in on ideas that were too wild, impossible, or simply not cost-effective.

  
Draco had been hesitant, even as he'd accepted it, but he’d ended up liking it. He got to be in a back room almost all the time, working on potions and creating things, almost never interacting with customers. His favorite part was that he was able to invent new potions or concoctions to sell in the store.

  
The day flew by as Draco stocked the store up on the needed product. The easier items – like Puking Pastiles – were so simple and repetitive that Draco practically made them without thinking. With a few hours left in the day started off on creating George's new ideas. He began with the basics of a Draught of Peace, but tweaked a few of the ingredients. By the end of the day, Draco felt like he'd had some success with his experimentation. It would likely take weeks of testing, of course, but it was good progress for the first day.

….

Draco rolled up his sleeves, the air getting hot after working on Potions for so long in the fairly small room. Even though it was March and freezing outside, the room had long since moved past warm. After a moment of consideration, he charmed the roof hatch open. He hated to do it when it was so cold out, but he was dying in the heat.

  
Draco had gone home yesterday, and as almost always, done nothing on a Friday night. He'd read a novel and listened to the highlights of a recent Quidditch match, and that was about it. George and his friends pestered him to have more of a social life, but Draco was genuinely fine spending most of his time at home.

  
He had come into work this morning with some new ideas for the confidence potion, eager to try them. His plan was to adjust the Draught of Peace with some ingredients from Wit-Sharpening Potion and Elixir to Induce Euphoria. Happy, sharp-tongued, and without anxiety – that sounded like confidence to Draco. He’d considered incorporating some aspects of Felix Felicis, but he was hoping he wouldn’t have to work with such a lengthy and intensive potion. The store hadn't been short on too much product in store, so he'd been able to get started on experimenting earlier than he'd hoped. Draco made a face as the potion turned the color of mud. Even from where he was standing, he could smell it. It wasn't pretty. He sighed as he crossed another idea off his list and emptied the cauldron. It would be necessary to use a lot of ingredients to experiment on dozens – maybe hundreds – of versions of the potion, and some of them were quite expensive. But if they were able to sell a working Confidence Potion, Draco knew they'd get their investment back tenfold.

…

Draco felt Daphne's eyes on him the moment he walked into the Three Broomsticks. He tried to ignore the thinking face she was giving him and asked the waitress for a whiskey and some chips.

  
“You saw Harry,” Daphne finally said.

  
“What? When?” Draco asked without looking up. He quickly cast a warming spell on his hands, cursing himself for forgetting his gloves.

  
“You tell me. I just meant you've talked to him recently.”

  
“What in blazes makes you think that?” He tried to keep his face blank. The last thing he wanted was all his friends talking about Harry tonight. This was their one night a week to get some greasy food, drink too much for their age, and forget any stressful parts of their life.

  
Blaise and Pansy were sitting across from them in the booth. “No Theo today?” Draco asked, eager to get the attention off himself. Pansy shook her head.

  
“Family issue came up. Something about his cousin and accidental magic. I think.”

  
“Such a sensitive girlfriend,” Blaise teased. Pansy merely shrugged.

  
“Whatever. It’s his business. So, tell us about seeing Harry.” Draco flushed ever so slightly, but figured he could pretend it was from just being out in the biting cold.

  
“I don't know why you think I saw him. I didn't even sit down before you accosted me.” Daphne sighed.

  
“You have... the _look_.” Draco made a face.

  
“What look?”

  
“The Potter look,” Blaise answered. “The one you only wear whenever he's around or you're thinking about him. Which hasn't been all that much recently, so where did you see him?”

  
“Or did you meet someone else?” Daphne asked, her voice slipping to excitement. Even though Daphne was also single and had been for some time, she was adamant on Draco trying to find someone. Particularly someone who had a chance of returning his feelings. Draco rolled his eyes.

  
“I stopped by to see Teddy. He was babysitting.” Daphne gently put her hand on Draco's arm, almost like she was offering her sympathy. Draco was saved from any more annoying questions when his food arrived.

  
There were a few moments of silence as everyone dug into their fried food. Pansy moaned when she ate her first bite of onion rings. “Ugh, I hate being on a diet. Saturday nights are the only times I'm happy.”

  
“So stop dieting,” Blaise said simply. Pansy's expression turned to disgusted.

“Absolutely not.”

  
“Did you actually talk to Harry?” Daphne tried to turn the conversation back to the only thing she wanted to talk about, apparently. Draco hesitated, turning over one of his chips. For some reason, he didn't want to tell them about that evening.

  
“He – well, Teddy – invited me in. I actually stayed... for a few hours.” Draco refused to look up, but there was a prolonged silence.

  
“I'm not sure whether to be proud of you or worried for you.”

  
“Probably worried,” Draco admitted. “We had dinner. With Teddy, of course. He told me it was good to see me. And... Teddy asked me to come back next week when he'd be there.”

  
“Draco...” Daphne started softly.

  
“I know,” Draco interrupted sharply. “I already told him I couldn't.”

  
Daphne and Pansy started discussing whether it would be better for him to avoid seeing him in the future or go back this week and get some closure. Draco had seen Harry dozens of times over the years, had fully proved to himself that there was no chance Harry would ever return the feelings, and he still hadn't found closure. He had started to think he never would.

  
“Anyway,” Draco interrupted their conversation. “This is exactly the kind of thing we come here to ignore.” He raised his mug of butterbeer and Blaise knocked it with his.

  
“Hear, hear. Pansy, let’s go back to your story about your cat getting into Nott’s potions cabinet. I need to hear the end of that.”

…

Draco adjusted, trying to get comfortable in the stiff manor chair. Despite being absurdly expensive, most of the furniture in the manor was not all that comfortable.

  
“Have you heard, Draco? About Neville Longbottom?”

  
Despite everything else changing, his mother had not lost her habit of gossiping about the neighbors and other wizarding families. At least now it was harmless gossip, though. This time, she told him how it was rumored that Neville Longbottom was going to propose to his girlfriend of something like two and a half years, Hannah Abott. Draco wouldn't be surprised if it was true, but he wondered why anyone would know and gossip about it before Neville had actually proposed.

  
He had dinner with his mother every Sunday evening, and always stayed long after dinner to talk with her about anything she wanted to vent or ask about, moving to the lounge with coffee.

  
“I also heard something interesting about you, my dear.”

  
“What might that be?”

  
“I heard that you helped Harry Potter babysit on Tuesday.” Draco did everything he could not to flush. For a second, he'd forgotten that his mother talked to her sister several times a week now. They seemed to discuss everything with one another. It was like they’d never been apart. Or perhaps, like they were making up for lost time.

  
“Well, I wouldn't quite phrase it like that.” Draco quickly explained why he had shown up that day. “I would have left when I saw Harry was there, but Teddy asked me to stay. You know how I am when Teddy asks for something.”

  
His mother nodded and looked over to the wall of potted plants behind them. Now that they only had two house elves, who mostly spent their time cleaning the expansive Manor, they had hired a squib to handle all of the plants and landscaping. Although the manor was still dark and foreboding to a degree, all of the plants and redecorating had improved it a lot. 

  
“How was it?”

  
“Teddy really enjoyed having both of us there,” was all that Draco offered.

  
“How is Harry?”

  
“He seems well. He clearly enjoys spending time with Teddy.” His mother nodded again and gave him a smile that made him wonder what she was thinking about.

  
Despite how obvious his friends found him, he didn't think his mother had any idea of his feelings for the man. He'd made a point of even limiting how much he talked about Harry in any capacity. Then again, if he really had a look like his friends claimed, maybe his mother was familiar with it, too.

  
Hell, for all he knew, his mother had a weekly gossip owl with Pansy.

  
…

  
Mondays were usually Draco's day to relax. He spent the morning focused on the project he'd been working on for some time. After being unable to solve the issue with magic for a year, he had relented and found some books on the muggle way to fix it. He'd read the books, talked with some experts, and had recently started actually working on it. He'd been worried the magic would reject it – even the muggle method of fixing it – but there hadn't been any issues so far.

  
He listened to the radio as he worked. After a nice streak of songs Draco enjoyed, and even started whistling to, the news came on. He half-listened to some stories on a huge Muggle event in London that would cause a lot of extra foot traffic in the city, an update on the new coffee shop that was set to open in Knockturn Alley in two weeks, and the week's Quidditch scores.

  
His hand slipped when the announcer turned to Harry Potter. Draco stilled for a few moments, debating turning it off or listening intently. He turned it off when he realized it was just another blurb about Harry Potter not dating anyone. It had been over five years since Harry had broken up with Ginny, and no one had seen him date anyone since. Not even one date, which even that would have been front page of the Prophet.

  
The Prophet had certainly tried to make some romances – anytime Harry was seen alone in public with Ginny, the paper had a field day on the two getting back together. Never mind the fact that the two were obviously still good friends and the Burrow was Harry's second home.

  
There had been rumors and gossip for weeks whenever they'd managed to get pictures of Harry alone with Cho, Luna, and virtually any other girl Harry spoke to. There had even been a time they had captured Harry and Hannah together in the minutes Neville went to the bathroom. Once they had tried to claim something about Granger, but the rumor was that Harry had stormed into the Prophet's office, and whatever he said to threaten them worked, because Draco had never seen a second rumor about her.

  
The Prophet hadn't really mentioned it, but Draco had heard the rumors that Harry must be dating people in the muggle world. Whether it was actually Muggles, or witches he took there, no one was sure. If there had been any witches, Draco was impressed. Either the witches were loyal, honest people, or Harry had somehow convinced them not to say anything to the press.

  
Then again, without a picture they wouldn't have any story. In Hogwarts, Draco had heard a different girl each day claim that she had a date with Harry that weekend. He doubted it had changed much.

  
He had been hard at work for two hours before sitting back to study his work. He hated that he wasn’t able to make it perfect – his hands shook ever so slightly, and the whole process was new to him. But he was confident the end product would still be great. 

After finishing the novel from yesterday and eating lunch, Draco pulled out some books on Alchemy. He'd forced himself to stop working over the weekends, per George's request that he didn't kill himself, but he didn't count research as work; he enjoyed it too much.

….

When he returned to work Tuesday, Draco made a face as he looked over the list. George rolled his eyes.

  
“Yes, Draco. Just like practically every weekend since you've started working here, students bought a bunch of love potions. Stop pretending you hate the smell of yours. I'm ninety percent sure that's impossible.” Draco just made the same face again at George and went into his workshop without responding.

  
Not because he was avoiding the love potions or anything, he started by working on the confidence potion first. The book he'd read on his day off had given him a few new ideas that he was excited to try. He had a long parchment with lists of ideas, a quill ready to put an X beside them when they failed, and notes if they gave him any insight.

  
After his lunch break, he knew he had to make the love potions. The potions were much weaker than Amortentia, of course. They would only last an hour, perhaps two if the victim was small. After a lot of outcry – mostly from Granger and Harry – they had adjusted the recipe so that it wouldn’t make anyone do anything they didn’t want to do. All it really did was enhance the giver’s best traits and make the receiver more eager to admit their feelings and act on them.

  
It wasn't that Draco disliked the smell of his love potion. Like George had said, he wasn't even sure if that was possible. He hated making them for obvious reasons – one, the potion naturally made him a bit light-headed and giddy. He always left the window and the roof hatch open, but it still affected him more than he would have liked. Two, of course, was who it made him think of.

  
His potion smelled like treacle tart, the wood of a broomstick, and strawberry. It had taken him a while to realize the scent matched Harry's shampoo. He doubted Harry even used anything similar anymore, but it was what he associated with Harry, so it was what he smelled.

  
He did his best to focus, with faint images of Harry flitting across his mind. Harry catching the Snitch, Harry's face when they won the House Cup, Harry writing an essay, Harry dancing with Luna at a party, Harry Harry _Harry_. Draco made a face and pulled the cloth tighter around his nose and mouth.

  
Harry playing with Teddy. Draco's heart raced when he remembered the unbridled joy on Harry's face while watching his Godson. If Draco could ever make Harry smile like that, he just might decide all the years of unrequited love were worth it.

  
All at once, he knew he had to go back; there was no way he would ignore another chance to spend time with Harry.


End file.
